


Providing the Rope

by Hammocker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Betaed, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exhaustion, Fluff, Haircuts, M/M, Season/Series 02, Shaving, Sweet, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would have been quite rude to refuse Hannibal's offer outright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Providing the Rope

**Author's Note:**

> How did this get so long? It's just a fluff piece. Why did I spend weeks on this?

Will took a second to stare at his bed as he entered his room for the first time in months. It wasn’t made up, just a mattress on a frame, but it was his once again. No more lumpy cot. No more snoring from down the hall, no bars or confinement in general. Not even any dogs to bother him yet. Just him and his bed.

Once he’d placed his glasses on the bedside table, Will collapsed face first onto it, embracing it like an old friend. Maybe it was his only real friend just then. As soon as he was settled, Will was asleep.

*****

Will woke with a start as a ring sounded from his back pocket. It didn’t feel like he’d slept at all. He sluggishly made to pick up the phone and brought it up to his face, tilting his chin up to make out the caller ID.

Hannibal. Will’s blood went cold.

**Ring.**

Will didn’t have long to decide. Pick it up? Leave it?

**Ring.**

Why was Hannibal calling so soon? Why was Hannibal calling at all?

**Ring.**

Why couldn’t he leave Will alone?

**Ring.**

Bite the bullet. Will tapped the answer button.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Will. I see you're up at last.”

“At last?”

“I called you earlier this morning and at noon. I was beginning to worry you might be disregarding me intentionally.”

“Could you blame me?”

A small pause before Hannibal continued unabated.

“I wanted to invite you over for a late lunch. I doubt you’ve had anything substantial for a while now.”

Lunch. Food. At Hannibal’s. Will felt his stomach try to lurch at the thought, but nothing came of it. He was hungry, in fact, he was starving. And here Hannibal was generously offering him lunch. It would be quite rude to refuse outright.

“What’s on the menu, Dr. Lecter?”

“Smoked salmon filet. Unless you take exception.”

Fish. Will could do fish.

“That’s- that’s fine.”

“Could you be here by two o’ clock?”

Did Will really want to visit Hannibal again so soon? Did he want to visit Hannibal at all, knowing what he knew? His brain was saying no, but his stomach was insistent on him seeking a good meal. And as his brain was still so foggy...

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.”

“Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you properly once more,”

Will couldn’t say the same. He gave a halfhearted, “Mhm.”

“And Will? I’ve missed you.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Good-bye for now,” Hannibal said and before Will could reply, the line cut off.

Glancing at the clock on his phone, Will observed that it was already one-thirty. God, how long had he slept? 

Forcing himself to sit up, Will placed the phone on the bedside table and grabbed his glasses. He only had enough time to spritz off and change, but what did it matter anyway? Will couldn’t imagine that he would be at Hannibal’s too long. Too many other things he needed to do. Papers that needed to be filled out. Dogs to be picked up. He definitely would not be there more than an hour.

*****

“Do come in, Will,” Hannibal said as he stepped away to allow Will inside.

Maybe his ability to read Hannibal was rusty, but he almost sounded excited to see Will. As excited as Hannibal ever seemed.

He stepped in without hesitation, and, with slight pause, Hannibal shut the door behind him.

“Everything is close to being ready if you wish to seat yourself.”

“Thank you.”

Will didn’t bother to wait and see what Hannibal might do next. He brushed right past and made his way into the dining room, the house’s layout still fresh in his mind even after months of absence. It had ended up becoming a home away from home, after all, before Will truly understood Hannibal’s nature. Will supposed it still was, in some way or another. He planted himself on his usual chair, just on the left from the table’s head. It still felt right to sit there, wrong as that might have been. And, God, the scent emanating from the kitchen. Savory and a bit sweet and so incredibly colorful. Things always seemed so gray, but nothing brought color to Will’s mind like Hannibal’s cooking. He picked up the wine that had already been placed, taking a sip in an effort to sate his growing appetite.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes for Hannibal to step out into the room, two plates in his hands.

“Smoked salmon filet, seasoned, with capers and penne rigate,” he declared as he placed them down with care.

Will only really heard half of what Hannibal had said. He took one glance at the food in front of him and grabbed his fork. The first bite-sized object in front of him, a poor piece of tube pasta, was skewered and in his mouth in the same second. Will was tempted to swallow it down whole like a famished snake, but he got in a few chews before the temptation became too great. He repeated the process with an efficiency he’d not thought himself capable of, only pausing to pick up his knife so he could cut into his chunk of salmon. He knew it was rude and that he was most likely being given a hard stare, but he was hungry. That’s all there was to it.

As he ate, his face slowly inched closer and closer to his plate, keeping his constant food intake as high as he could manage. Even so, it was never enough at once. Never quite satisfying.

A particularly pointed clearing of the throat from Hannibal drew Will out of his consumption and back into reality. The knowledge of what he had been doing hit him like a bag of cement. He swallowed down a hunk of salmon before raising his head to meet Hannibal’s eye. 

“If you are so inclined, you may use your hands,” Hannibal said, nodding his way. “Just this once.”

He didn’t know whether it was what Hannibal had said or the way he had said it or his own actions, but Will felt a pang of embarrassment. It didn’t make sense. Hannibal was the last person he should have felt humiliation in front of, not considering some of the things he knew Hannibal had done. The way he presented himself, though, the sheer courteous confidence, it was enough to put Will to shame just then. But then, Hannibal had made a very direct statement, not something Will heard very often. Either Hannibal truly thought Will wanted to eat with his hands or he really wanted to see Will do so. And either might have been accurate.

In a moment of hesitation, Will’s eyes drifted between Hannibal’s eyes and both of their plates. It was only then that he realized that his portion was considerably larger than Hannibal’s. They were both almost half-way through their food, despite Will eating much more rapidly. Will was too grateful to consider any potential ramifications just then.

Will clenched his jaw for a split-second before placing his utensils down and re-assessing what was in front of him. A nice wedge of flesh remained along with some pasta stragglers. He could pick the tubes up easily, but flesh was much more appetizing just then. He reached in and gripped the morsel’s edge between his fingertips. For a moment, he simply felt it, felt the tenderness of it. He only rarely felt his food outside of his palate, but today was a good day to do so. He pressed through the salmon with his fingernail, tore a chunk off, and popped it into his mouth.

Will continued on slower than before, more out of necessity than anything. It was awkward, eating with his hands, more for the need to rip and tear unaided than anything else. Maybe it would have been easier if he employed his teeth, but Will wasn’t quite that hungry anymore. He could have forgotten Hannibal’s presence then, were it not for his gaze.

Hannibal would, on occasion, steal glances at Will as he wolfed down what remained of his meal. With only a peripheral view to go on, Will couldn’t tell if his expression was one of disgust or intrigue. He didn’t really mind either. It didn’t matter anyway.

They both silently edged towards completion. Hannibal got there first, by virtue of cheating, and as Will took his last few bites, Hannibal sipped the remainder of his wine. It was then that Hannibal spoke up once more.

“Would you like me to draw a bath for you?”

“Pardon?” Will said, coughing out an unfinished laugh.

“Your hair was wet when you came in, but you look as though you need more attention than you’ve given yourself. Attention you’re more likely to receive here than in your own home.” He placed his empty glass down on the table before asking once more, “Would you like me to draw a bath?”

Will blinked quizzically. Was Hannibal offering to let him bathe in his home or offering to bathe Will himself? Knowing him, it could have been either. But he wasn’t wrong. Will hadn’t done much more than get himself damp at home, and Hannibal’s bathrooms were much nicer than his own.

“Alright.”

“In that case, you’ll need to excuse me.”

Hannibal stood and made his way out of the room, leaving Will to finish up on his own. He hesitated to continue eating, his stomach suddenly turning in anticipation for what he might be walking into. He placed his fork down on the plate and brought his arms up onto the table, leaning forward a bit. Maybe it wasn’t anxiety. Maybe he had just eaten a bit too much or a bit too fast. He gritted his teeth as his stomach twisted about in an effort to digest all that Will had put in it. Will was hardly in any position to complain, really. He probably should have been more conservative with the meal.

He rested his head against his arm, angling his gaze toward the kitchen. It would have been easy to get up and snoop a bit. Hannibal didn’t often leave him alone in his house. He doubted he would find anything of interest, but it couldn’t hurt to look. But then, he really didn’t want to get up for nothing. Not to mention that Hannibal had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time for Will’s tastes.

As he was about to shut his eyes, a damp scent drifted up under Will’s nostrils. Hot water, not far from there. That’s right. That’s why he was waiting. A bath would be a welcome comfort right then, now that Will thought about it. One he was willing to stand for.

He got to his feet, using the table for leverage, and followed the odor down the way Hannibal had gone. A light was shining out from a room down the hall and as Will drew close, a spattering could be heard from inside. Will pressed the unclosed door in and found himself in a spacious washroom, complete with a seemingly recent tiled floor, a marble counter, and a very shiny bathtub-shower hybrid. The faucet had been left running and had just about filled up the tub. Hannibal had probably meant to come back to turn it off, but surely he wouldn’t mind Will taking care of it himself.

Will shut the door and headed over to turn off the water. He dipped the tips of his fingers into the water, finding the water hot, but not unwelcoming. He glanced back towards the door. Hopefully Hannibal would understand that Will had found his way to the bath on his own and leave him to it.

Once his glasses were off and placed upon the counter, Will tugged his shirt off. The warm, damp air was a pleasant change of pace on its own, though, he wasn’t sure how he felt undressing in Hannibal’s home. Even left by himself, it felt strange, like slipping on a skin that was just one size too small. He told himself that he didn’t want to get used to it.

Will stepped out of his shoes and left them at the side of the tub before pulling his socks off. He pushed his pants and briefs down simultaneously, a vague fear of ending up bathing in his underwear in the back of his mind. Once his clothing was set in a pile on the toilet and his glasses set on the counter, he turned back towards the bath and maneuvered himself into the water.

The moment he was halfway sunk in, Will had to grit his teeth to keep an inadvertent sigh from escaping. It was even better than just the warm air. Pure fluid heat surrounding his form, a luxury he all-but-never allowed himself. Impossibly tempting. He leaned back against the slanted head of the tub, settling in up to his neck as his legs and arms stretched out. It took a moment to situate himself fully. The tub was by no means small, but Will hadn’t realized how stiff he was until he had taken on a more relaxed position.

Once he was comfortable, Will took in a deep breath of the steam still rolling off of the water. He let his head tip back into the water even farther, shutting his eyes and letting his mouth hang ajar. Maybe he would just fall asleep here and drown. Do Hannibal’s work for him. A nice and pleasant way to go, his brain as clear as it was foggy.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Will tore his head back into the air and turned his gaze toward the door to find Hannibal standing there, holding towels in arms. His ears had been underwater. He hadn’t been able to hear properly. He’d put himself in danger without even thinking. Will reflexively tried to draw up into himself at his sudden awareness, only managing to bring his arms into his chest and his knees upward from his position.

“Good,” Hannibal said. He strode across the room to place the towels on their rack. “I thought you might need these,”

“Thank you,” Will murmured, making an effort not to look at Hannibal.

He didn’t move an inch while he waited for Hannibal to exit once more. Unfortunately, Hannibal decided to speak once again before leaving.

“I wonder, perhaps, if you might appreciate help.”

“What kind of help?” Will asked, working to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

“Your hair is in a desperate state, Will. A friendly hand may do better with it than your own.”

Friendly. Why did Hannibal have to insist on implying a friendship between them? Will did not want to be anywhere near this disgusting human being. But then, why was he sitting here in Hannibal’s house, in his goddamn bathtub no less? How could he be so compliant? How could he want to continue to comply?

“Okay,” Will sighed. “Go ahead.”

Before he could be asked, Will shifted so he leaned back against the outermost side of the tub. He heard Hannibal pull over a stool or something like that and situate himself behind Will. If there was a time for Hannibal to go ahead and slit his throat, it was now.

Nothing sharp or even harsh ever touched him, though. All that happened was Hannibal began scooping up water and using it to wet his hair. His idle hand came to rest upon Will’s shoulder, a pleasant weight that could even have been heavier for his liking.

Hannibal reached across the tub to pick up a bottle of expensive-looking shampoo. The sound of the cap flipping open rung through the room. He caught a scent that he could only truly say reminded him of Hannibal, albeit without Hannibal’s natural scent backing it up. The closest comparison he could think of otherwise was mix of toothpaste and disinfectant. It was a scent Hannibal could make work, but Will? Will didn’t know if he could pull that off.

Before he could protest, however, Hannibal had squeezed some onto his hand and was rubbing it into his hair. Well, at least it wasn’t his own cheap silicone scented shampoo. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself then. He tried to ignore the fingers at his scalp, tried to focus on the still-warm water around him, but that only grew more and more difficult. Hannibal was rubbing his skin as much as his hair, insistent, but gentle, and it made for an incredibly soothing massage. Will’s head drooped and his eyes flickered shut now and again. He could almost forget what he knew those hands had done.

As he closed his eyes, the palm on his shoulder slipped sideways to knead at his neck. Hannibal’s breathing was easy, just barely audible, but Will could feel it brush across his neck. How close he was exactly, Will couldn’t tell, but it was closer than he needed to be. It wasn’t so bad, he supposed. Wouldn’t be the first time that Hannibal had come nearer than Will was comfortable with. Even if this was the first time Hannibal had gotten so close to choking him. He may very well have been contemplating choking the life out of Will. The pressure he was using just skimmed the line between firm and excessive. Will found it pacifying somehow.

Will was practically asleep by the time he felt Hannibal bringing handfuls of water over his head and washing the lather away. He leaned his head back with a yawn that came out louder than he’d intended.

“Thanks,” he said as Hannibal’s hands finally disappeared.

“You’re very welcome.”

He heard Hannibal drag whatever he’d been sitting on back to wherever it had been, followed by footsteps and then the door shutting. Will could finally breathe again.

With Hannibal gone at last, Will figured he needed to make the most of the warm water still left. He picked up the bar of soap sitting on its holder and rubbed it against his hands. To the best of his abilities, Will scrubbed himself down. He hadn’t exactly been covered in grime in the first place, and with the pungent scent of Hannibal’s shampoo all over him, no one was going to complain any time soon.

Will lifted himself out of the tub and stepped out onto the waiting rug. He straightened himself and stretched out as water dripped out of his hair and off his skin. For all his worries, he was feeling pretty good. He was more relaxed than he had been in months, he was relatively clean, and he hadn’t been murdered yet. Not bad at all.

He was picking up his pants to get at his briefs when the door opened once again. Will let out a puff of air through his nose before turning to look at Hannibal, who held a several layers of neatly folded clothing this time.

“You could at least knock,” he hissed.

“It’s my home,” Hannibal said, taking a step forward. “And you’ll feel much better if you’re dressed better.”

“Thank you,” Will said, taking the clothes. They weren’t too Hannibal-esque, all things considered. Just a shirt, briefs, and pants that someone more refined than Will might call fashionably casual. No socks. Hannibal didn’t want him putting on his shoes just yet, it seemed.

Will didn’t bother to wait for Hannibal to leave before starting to dress, nor did he try to hide himself. It wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but there wasn’t much use in making any more fuss. Hannibal would just push him harder into uncomfortable territory if he said anything. Best to wait Hannibal out, but he didn’t seem to want to leave.

“Lovely as you are, Will, I wonder when you’ve last had your hair cut,” he said, his gaze boring into Will.

Lovely?

“I don’t remember, actually,” Will said, pulling his pants up over his thighs.

“I’d like to give you a trim, if you’re willing. And a shave.”

Food, a bath, flattery, and now a haircut? What was Hannibal trying to accomplish? The only reasonable explanation was that he wanted an excuse to get near Will with scissors or a razor, but if he wanted Will dead, there were plenty of more practical means to fulfilling that goal. And, once again, Hannibal had a point. Will’s hair had been allowed to grow to inordinate length while he was confined. He needed it cut.

“You can do that?”

“Not as well as some, I regret to say, but you would be in competent hands.”

Will had things to do. Places to be. Probably. But, then again, he had come pretty far. Far into what he wasn’t sure, but definitely far. In for an inch, in for a mile, Will supposed.

“Alright. Why not?”

“Splendid. Wait here.”

As Will pulled on the rest of his clothes, Hannibal dragged a chair into the room followed by a sheet. Once everything was in place, he looked at Will and gestured to the seat.

“Please, sit.”

Will obeyed, though, not with any enthusiasm. He settled in and allowed Hannibal to drape the sheet around him. 

He heard a drawer open near the sink, followed by light, metallic clacking.

When Hannibal stepped into view again, he carried a small container which he had a stout brush of some sort dipped into. He pulled the brush out, revealing it to be covered in lathered shaving cream and began applying it to Will’s face and neck. Will had to shut his eyes after a moment of trying to evade Hannibal’s, leaving him sensitive to touch. The foam was cool and pleasant, though, the brush was a bit tickly. He wanted to reach up and scratch any skin it drifted over, but didn’t dare move his hands just then.

Before the temptation could became too great, the bristles disappeared and Will could hear Hannibal step behind him. Something on the counter was shifted out of place.

“Keep your head back,” Hannibal ordered.

Will swallowed around a dry mouth as he tipped his chin up. His breath hitched as the cold edge of a blade pressed against his neck. His heart raced, he felt sweat roll down his face, he gripped at the arms of the chair. Now or never, now or never.

The blade gently scraped up towards his chin, severing hair from flesh as it went. No blood, no cut, just newly smooth skin. Will breathed in deep and relaxed his shoulders. Things were going to be just fine.

Hannibal went on, gliding the blade across Will’s skin with the same firm yet gentle pressure. It was nice, really. The slight scratch juxtaposed the lathered cream in exactly the right way, staving off any remaining need for stimulation. Will didn’t even mind when Hannibal used his free hand to nudge his head into more workable positions. 

It wasn’t long before the razor disappeared entirely, leaving his skin bare and tender in its wake. Will reached up to feel around his chin and jaw. Absolutely smooth. It was strange, having it that way after constant rough stubble for months on end. More strange, the idea that Hannibal had a particular interest in bringing Will back to a more presentable state.

Will heard water running for a few seconds before Hannibal stepped back in front of him with a wet cloth and meticulously patting off any remaining traces of shaving cream. The cloth was almost as warm as the bathwater had been at first and Will gave an approving hum at the feel of it. Hannibal seemed to pick up on this, allowing himself to linger for longer than Will would have expected. Yet still the experience felt as though it had been cut short once the soft heat was gone and Hannibal was out of view once more.

“You may lean forward now,” Hannibal said as Will heard him pick up another metallic tool.

He didn’t bother doing so, having become quite comfortable sitting up. Nonetheless, it wasn’t long before Will felt and heard the first clip of his hair. Hannibal had a hand on his scalp once again, this time more clearly focused on singling out problem locks. Even without seeing Hannibal, Will could feel his sheer focus. The shave had been more intimate than Will was used to, certainly, but somehow it felt even more personal to have Hannibal simply trimming his hair. 

A silence fell over them, one that Will found himself increasingly uncomfortable with. Maybe it was the closeness, maybe it was the sound of snipping, but something disturbing hung in the air. Hoping for alleviation, he asked the first thing that came to mind.

“How’s Alana been?”

Will regretted speaking immediately.

“Why are you asking me?” Hannibal answered, his words coming out slower than normal.

“We’ve both known her longer than we’ve known each other,” Will said, shrugging. “Maybe it would be better to ask how you’ve both been.”

“She’s been well. I’ve been well enough. We’ve spent quite a lot of time together lately.”

“Yeah? Any reason?”

A moment passed before Hannibal stated flatly, “We’ve taken up a more intimate relationship.”

“Oh.” Will felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Guess I’m not surprised.”

An ambivalent hum was the only reply he got.

Beneath the sheet, Will clutched his hands together. Worry and envy were suddenly eating at his exhausted mind and he didn’t know what to do with either. He knew the worry was for Alana, but he was ashamed to think that he didn’t know who the envy was directed at. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry, but what good would that do?

He held back his tears and let his head lean forward, shutting his eyes entirely. Neither of them had anything more to say, that much was obvious. All there was was the snipping. Hannibal cutting away at him as he pleased. It was hypnotic in its way, and as the moments passed, Will found his thoughts disjointing from each other further and further until they were little more than particles bouncing across the walls of his mind. It was a less stressful state at least, to lose himself and simply drift like a leaf in the wind.

It felt like hours had passed before Will perceived anything outside himself again. In his half-awake state, he felt a palm against his cheek followed by a pressure against the top of his head. A light gust in his hair. A creature, but not a human, Will’s psyche decreed. Some other beast. Hostile? It didn’t feel hostile. But then, maybe it was.

He felt his chin being lifted up, but his eyes wouldn’t open. Or maybe they were open and he was just stuck in his mind’s eye. Still, he felt what he definitely thought was a pair of warm lips press against his forehead and stay there for a long moment. Was it the same creature? Maybe. It definitely wasn’t an aggressive gesture. Maybe it was even human, somehow. Human and beast at the same time. It made sense in his head just then. He barely noticed the disappearance of contact.

“Will?”

Hannibal’s voice. That’s right, he was at Hannibal’s place. He’d been invited. Dinner. It had gone on too long.

“Huh?” he managed, blinking open his eyes.

“I’ve finished,” Hannibal said, putting a hand over Will’s forearm. “You should see yourself.”

“Okay,” was all Will could think to say.

He made an effort to stand, but found himself effectively pinned to his chair by legs that did not want to work with him. Only when Hannibal put one arm under his and hauled him up did he manage to find his feet, limp as they felt.

With help, Will angled himself towards the oversized mirror hung above the sink. The picture was a bit blurry, but his eyes were nonetheless immediately drawn to Hannibal, stood next to him and gazing at him with a half-smile. Hannibal so rarely betrayed emotion that Will didn’t recognize at first what his face so clearly betrayed: desire. Not lust necessarily, but a desire for closeness. A true want to be there next to Will. His own reflection seemed a little too compliant with that.

“You truly are lovely, Will,” Hannibal murmured, like it was simultaneously the most obvious and the most striking thing he had ever observed.

“I-”

What did you say to something like that? He probably knew somewhere in his brain, but it wasn’t coming to him.

”-I should really get going.”

“Perhaps. Yet you’ve been trying to doze off all afternoon. Wouldn’t you rather stay and rest a while?”

Rest. Rest sounded nice. He didn’t really want to stay, but Will had to admit that there was a distinct possibility of him collapsing on the street as soon as he left. And Hannibal hadn’t tried to hurt him yet so why would he now? He was probably planning something. Will was probably playing into his hand somehow or another, but he was just too exhausted to care.

“That would be good.”

Hannibal practically carried him out of the bathroom and into the hall. He felt much more solid than he looked beneath his suits. Will’s only real contribution was moving his feet in a facade of walking, if only for the sake of conserving his dwindling pride.

The room Hannibal led him to didn’t look very much like a guest room. It was too big and the decor too elaborate and Will was certain that most bedrooms didn’t have fireplaces in them. But then, this was Hannibal’s house so anything was possible. Nevertheless, the bed was massive and Will wanted to lay on it.

He broke off from Hannibal’s grasp and trudged over to bed before all but flopping down on top of the sheets. If it wasn’t so warm and if he wasn’t so tired, Will might have pulled the blankets over himself. Rather, he was content to lazily palm at the soft fabrics as he rolled inward onto his side and brought his arms close to his chest and neck. Even just laying there, he felt wrapped up in comfort. The eye of the storm truly seemed like the best place to be right then. So quiet and calm. Will felt his eyes shut. So very quiet.

*****

Will was roused by a dry mouth and stiff joints. He had the distinct sense that hours had passed, though, how many he couldn’t tell. From the scent Hannibal was laid down just next to him. Still in Hannibal’s home then. Will wasn’t sure if he wanted to get used to that.

At least he felt refreshed. Being incarcerated for any period of time was exhausting, Will knew, but he hadn’t expected to need so much sleep once he was out. He felt a little like himself again, albeit not exactly like he was before, well, everything.

When his eyes managed to open fully, Will tilted his head upward to look at Hannibal. His suit jacket and shirt were gone, replaced with a red sweater with no apparent shirt beneath. He was reading some ancient tome of a book, Moby-Dick if the jacket was accurate. Something stuffy and awful in any case, if Will knew Hannibal.

“I hope you don’t mind my presence,” Hannibal said, eyes flitting in Will’s direction.

“‘s fine, fine,” Will mumbled, pushing himself up against the headboard. “Your house.”

“So it is.”

“What time is it?”

“Just past nine now.”

He’d been there too long. Much, much too long. He didn’t even want to leave anymore, really. Hannibal’s house was nice and Hannibal had been uncharacteristically nice. It wasn’t like Will had any real responsibilities to take care of, not yet anyway. Will could do much worse in the way of company.

He didn’t want to talk about it, but with Hannibal’s behavior and his growing sense of uncertainty, he had to ask.

“You and Alana, huh?” he said, making an effort to quash any bitterness in his voice.

“You might put it that way,” Hannibal said, giving a modest tilt of his head.

“Then how would you put it?”

“Alana is a close friend of mine,” he said, closing his book and placing it on the bedside. “And she continues to be a useful alibi.”

“That isn’t what you said, you said you were in an intimate relationship.”

“That was not a whole truth, no, but I must be cautious.”

Cautious? Why would-?

The sequence of events came back to him in a flash of motion. The food, the bath, the clothes, the bedroom. Hannibal had been checking him over for listening devices.

“Is that why you did all that?” Will demanded.

“I think you know the answer.”

“No, no, I don’t know,” Will said, drawing his arms up to his chest. “Everything you’ve done, it’s all inconsistent. I’m a threat to you and you keep hurting me, but you won’t kill me. Why won’t you kill me?”

“My dear Will,” Hannibal said, placing a hand on his upper arm. “We’ll come to that. It wasn’t you who made the attempt on my life after all.”

“So you are going to kill me?”

“I am quite capable of killing you, Will. I’m simply not willing to do so, which I have had to come to terms with over these past several months.”

“What could possibly be so compelling about me that you won’t murder me to protect yourself?”

“I fell in love with your mind very easily, Will,” Hannibal told him, leaning over to place a hand over Will’s cheek. “I suppose it’s only natural that I might fall in love with you sooner or later. Absence makes the heart grow fonder after all.”

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

“You love me,” Will repeated, eyes drifting away from Hannibal.

Will should have been angry. He should have been terrified. He was afraid, but more than that he was relieved. Relieved to hear from the horse’s mouth what he knew was true. But how was he supposed to respond? Any sane person would have fled right there and then, but Will didn’t want to. Hannibal would hunt him down anyway if he tried, so what was the point?

“I guess I’m not surprised.”

“I should hope not,” Hannibal said, retracting his hand. “I believe I’ve done more than enough to express my attraction today alone.”

“But you also told me that you and Alana are...” He couldn’t find a word.

“I believe that actions speak louder than words if one is willing to listen.”

“I’m listening. You already told me you loved me for God’s sake. It’s just- Are you gonna just continue with Alana?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t- I just- No. No,” Will stuttered, suddenly face to face with his own base desires. “I don’t want there to be anyone else.”

“Then I shall speak to her,” Hannibal said with a nod. “I do, however, expect your cooperation from now on.”

“You want someone to keep playing alibi.”

“More than that, I will expect you to do as you are told should I ask something of you.”

“Okay. But you need to stop hurting me. Stop toying with me.”

“I promise not to hurt you if you do not hurt me.”

Will was a bit offended at that request. He’d never knowingly hurt Hannibal, certainly not intentional, and most definitely not as horribly as Hannibal had hurt him.

“When have I ever hurt you?” he asked.

“You hurt me quite severely by attempting to expose me. I cannot have that, Will, you understand.”

Will clenched his jaw. He supposed that Hannibal had a point, twisted as it was. Will couldn’t blame him for asking for an oath of silence. 

“Fair enough. I promise the same.

“Then we are agreed. I intend to hold you to your word.”

“Alright.”

“Alright,” Hannibal echoed.

“So,” Will drawled, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “Are we supposed to do anything?”

“It’s my opinion that doing what feels natural is often the best course of action.”

Will didn’t think anything he did would feel quite natural, but by Hannibal’s wording, he was expected to make the next move.

Will edged closer to Hannibal until their sides touched, Hannibal watching him as though he was a timid bird. He rearranged himself onto his side so he could put an arm around Hannibal while pressing his face against his chest. The position was awkward, Will thought. He didn’t have very much prior experience with, for lack of a better word, cuddling, and it seemed too close, too touchy, even completely clothed as they were.

Yet Hannibal made no move to correct him. Will couldn’t see his face, but he felt distinctly watched. Not in the uncomfortable way he was otherwise used to, something more pleasant, but so very alien. He stiffened when a gentle hand laid upon the back of his neck, less out of fear and more out of uncertainty. But as Hannibal began to soothe and stroke from his scalp to his shoulders, Will found himself compelled to look up at him.

Hannibal was smiling. A full, tender smile, restrained as it was, aimed right at him. It was like staring into the sun, but Will couldn’t look away. He didn’t know how to deal with the sheer desire in Hannibal’s gaze. It was more than he had ever seen anyone express all at once. He didn’t think he was deserving of it, not even from a creature like Hannibal.

But he wanted to touch Hannibal. He knew that much and he knew Hannibal wanted to touch him back. He wanted to desire and be desired. Wanted to be with Hannibal. He wanted to be held and forget what he was being held by. So when Hannibal leaned down to kiss him, he didn’t pull back.


End file.
